


Do What You Want, 'Til You Find What You're Looking For

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Series: The "Bailbiwanakin Three-Way" 'Verse [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Party, Bondage, Dinner Party, Karen Miller, M/M, Multi, Obi-Wan's Dubious Consent, Wild Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin invites himself to Bail's private birthday celebration, and even brings along a present. Almost entirely yet another Bail/Anakin/Obi-Wan three-way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do What You Want, 'Til You Find What You're Looking For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msestora (estora)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estora/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We Went As Far As We Felt Like Going](https://archiveofourown.org/works/727033) by [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess), [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/pseuds/patientalien). 



> So I've been having a lot of Bailbiwan feels as of late, which Tumblr Star Wars fandom has not been helping (kidding, it so has). This particular story builds on the head-canon put forth in We Went As Far As We Felt Like Going, co-written by patientalien, in which Bail, Anakin and Obi-Wan have a three-way (and wherein Obi-Wan is very explicitly the meat in the sandwich, shall we say). This newest 'fic (a solo effort, this time) also builds on some of the (non-gay! Totally not queer at all!) Bail/Obi-Wan ~friendship detailed in Karen Miller's Wild Space, with dubious results, I'm sure (though in all fairness, it's not like she or her alter ego ruth baulding will read it anyways because, again, to her, Obi-Wan Kenobi is the Straightest Man in the World, so w/e, COME AT ME BRO, etc. Also, because she has been a very good enabler as of late, this is dedicated to estora. Warnings: Bondage, Obi-Wan's dubious consent. Title comes from Evanescence's "What You Want." (Fun fact: Um, I might be writing more Granta Omega/Anakin and even Xanatos/Padawan Obi-Wan in the near-ish future and I'm pretty sure the latter endeavor[s; there is more than one, argh] will also be given Evanescence title(s), wiiince.

The first thing Senator Bail Organa sees when he enters his apartment at approximately 5:57 Coruscant Standard Time for the first time since leaving it that morning for work, hands laden with bags containing groceries he had been planning to use, in part, to create an intimate dinner in celebration of his own Life Day that very evening, is a shadow, tall and ominous and very, very much human-shaped.

The second thing he sees, once he quickly hits the light switch by the door and braces himself for the worst, prepared, even, to grab up the small blaster he had taken to keeping in the satchel that lay against his side, open wide at the top for easy access, is the entirely nude form of Obi-Wan Kenobi, bound with ropes crisscrossing his wrists and ankles and a few other places as well, his mouth held open with a blue ball gag that looks to be stretching those particular muscles more than a little, and perched atop his own ottoman, a large, tan thing that Bail himself has taken to calling 'the mushroom.' 

As one might expect, Bail ends up dropping the bags altogether.

The naked Jedi on his sectional end-piece blinks unhappily in the newfound illumination. Behind him, still looming a bit, yet no longer a mystery, Anakin Skywalker just frowns. "Hope none of that's breakable," he intones, and Bail snorts incredulously. Then, he makes a short snapping motion with his hand, and one of his personal maintenance 'droids comes hobbling over, eager to clean up after its master.

Satisfied that this will be completed with little fanfare, Bail turns back to the scene into which he has but unwittingly walked. "So I remember inviting Master Kenobi over this evening for dinner -"

"For your private birthday celebration," Anakin interrupts, and Bail furrows his brow at the young man's general rudeness.

"Right. And I see that he's ... here, now, early, even ..." He tries to avoid examining too closely the intricate rope-work that has Obi-Wan bound up tight before him. The slightly younger man's face is calm, aside from the giant rubber ball shoved between his lips and teeth, though his eyes do not twinkle with their usual bemusement at life. 

Anakin's face, on the other hand, is positively alight, albeit with considerable mischief. "So I really like your cooking," he admits guilelessly, referring, Bail presumes, to the handful of dinner parties to which he has been privy, mostly because Obi-Wan has, in the past, felt bad about leaving him to the Temple cafeteria or a sloppy 3 AM meal at Dex's when Bail always makes plenty more than two (or three, should Padme happen to be there) people can eat through in a single sitting. (The possible exception, of course, is Senator Orn Free Ta; all the same, he has never received an invite to one of Bail's dinner parties, nor has he yet seen fit to invite himself ... unlike some people, that is.)

"Thank ... you?" Bail's face is relaxed, though his eyes keep darting towards Obi-Wan. The ropes, he thinks, look tight, and he can see evidence of the smaller man's flesh having been rubbed rather abrasively by the bindings, as though there had been a struggle. Some subtle shifting brings to his attention, as well, that Obi-Wan's wrists were bound not with rope, but electronic binders. "I ... so you've invited yourself to my private birthday celebration," he intones eventually, briefly meeting Obi-Wan's exasperated, narrow gaze (Bail tries not to smile, he really does), "and you've brought a present?"

"Wrapped it myself." Anakin sounds far too proud, and for the first time, Obi-Wan lets out a muffled noise when Anakin seems to goose him a little from behind. "He was hard to catch, being a Jedi and a General and all, but I eventually subdued him." In truth, Obi-Wan had been admiring a new painting hanging in Bail's sitting area, having let himself into Organa's inner-sanctum within 500 Republica with the key card Bail had given him, when Anakin, momentarily along for the ride before leaving to visit Padme, or so he had claimed, had simply come up behind Obi-Wan and tackled the unsuspecting Jedi to the ground. "Anakin, what in the blazes!" Obi-Wan had yelled, and sure enough, the struggling did not abate, even when Anakin had succeeded in wrapping the binders around his wrists. From there, however, he had a clear advantage, and was simply able to sit on his Master until Obi-Wan had reluctantly stopped wiggling, and then had proceeded to strip him and bind his feet and the rest of him together. The rope had been a pre-planned inclusion, unbeknownst to his poor Master; the gag he had borrowed from his and Padme's joint collection of toys. "It matches your lightsaber blade, Master," Anakin had said after shushing his Master's muffled pleas (and insults). "And your eyes," he'd added, and Obi-Wan's nostrils had flared; Anakin, however, had just chucked him on the chin. "And now, we wait," he smirked, and set about tidying up after the veritable wrestling match that had, alas, claimed one of the Senator's knick-knacks, a blown-glass bowl decorated with oddly stylized banthas, something that, Anakin thought snidely as he swept up the pieces and hid them underneath Bail's couch, hardly seemed like Organa's usual fare. Fortunately, Bail's attentiveness seemed to be all for the Jedi Master nudely occupying his furniture, and so Anakin figured that he was safe; though again, he had thought smugly at the time, it had been a mercy killing, so if anything, Bail should be thanking him.

Bail continues to ogle his unorthodox gift, still standing too far away to touch, though Anakin suspects that won't last much longer. "Do you really think gagging him was necessary?" he asks diplomatically, and Obi-Wan grunts when Anakin cups his chin, tilting his face upwards. 

"I mean, I didn't think it was fair for him to try to negotiate his way out of making your birthday extra special, Senator." He fiddles a little with the ball, gripping it and then kind of pushing it further back behind Obi-Wan's teeth, pressing it down onto his tongue, until Bail sees the other man's eyes bug out, and even hears him gag a little. "This way, he's all trussed up and quiet as a newborn shaak," Anakin says admiringly, and Bail wants to amp up to the level of animosity that is clearly written across every line of Obi-Wan's body (in taut strands of rope, for that matter), but, in truth, he's already really into this. He watches Anakin walk slowly around to his former Master's front, his gaze traveling to the young man's real hand as it trails down the side of Obi-Wan's face, and then further, stopping to pinch a nipple. "Nnkn," Obi-Wan growls, but Anakin just smirks. Then, suddenly, he looks aggrieved.

"Forgot the clamps." He surveys the room quickly, and then seems to make a snap decision of some sort, which he punctuates by actually snapping his fingers. "Be right back," he announces, and strides away, heading down a long hallway leading off into several smaller rooms of the expansive apartment. Then, he stops, in the middle of his journey, turns around, and flashes a cocksure grin: "You should take off your man-purse and stay a while, Organa," he says, and then resumes his quest.

"I -" Bail begins, mystified, but decides that Anakin seems to know his way around. He's not even going to dignify the comment about his satchel ('not a man-purse,' he thinks anyways, and maybe his ego is pouting just a little as he nonetheless sets the bag down on a nearby chair) with a response. In any case, it's not the first time they've all ended up here, together, for a purpose similar to though not precisely like this, after all. He's had Obi-Wan over since, too, though nothing between them, before or after Anakin had initiated their first three-way, sandwiching Obi-Wan between them and then carefully engineering everything from that point on, has been nearly so exciting. It wasn't that Bail wasn't satisfied with their couplings, of course; far from it, Obi-Wan was both a generous lover and a satisfying sexual conquest - Jedi Code be damned, the man could fuck and vice-versa with great aplomb. Beyond that, however, it was simply that what had happened with Anakin in the mix had been exciting, raw, unexpected, and now, seeing Obi-Wan here, tied up, Anakin rooting around in his bedroom or laundry room or wherever for what Bail could only imagine was an alternative to nipple clamps, it was not difficult for Bail to want more - once in a great while - than the uncomplicated, dare he say it, 'love-making' that characterized his usual sex life vis-a-vis Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Ah, love; perhaps it wasn't so uncomplicated after all. On Zigoola, things had been complicated: Obi-Wan, drudged up initially as a reluctant bodyguard for Bail, whose overzealousness to take on such a mysterious mission in the first place, and also by refusing to simply let Jedi handle the entire thing, had very nearly done them both in, had suddenly found himself unable to protect anyone, let alone himself. At that point, Bail's instincts, his intense passion for peace, justice, security, had kicked in; he remembered how it had felt to hoist Obi-Wan's wounded frame atop his shoulders, how much power had danced between his hands as he himself had reluctantly (very, very reluctantly) dug into the other man's leg with his own lightsaber, blade sizzling as it connected with burning flesh. The dubious task had eventually allowed Obi-Wan to contact the Jedi Temple, to plead for aid, to get them home; it had also changed something between them, altered the tentative relationship built on sniping about politics and Jedi idealism and begrudgingly needing one another, to something far deeper, messier, something that called into question Bail's ideas about the entire Jedi Order, to say nothing of his relationship with his wife, out of sight and, more than he wanted to admit, often out of mind because, of course, there were so many pressing things to attend to, like mooning over someone he could never be with for several reasons to take up the bulk of his free thinking time, that which occurred when he finally clocked out of work, and sometimes, even there, it lingered. Perhaps, then, "uncomplicated" was precisely the opposite of what was between them now.

And yet, he thinks, finally traversing the short distance to stand, and then, to kneel in front of Obi-Wan, still bound and looking quite aggrieved (and adorable, he can't help but think, and his cock stirs in his pants), he's willing to throw caution to the wind, to risk altering what they are to one another, for better or for worse, all over again (for better or for worse), if it can somehow incorporate all of this. "Ben, this is so awkward, I'm sorry," he gets out, and his hands come out to grip at Obi-Wan's forearms, themselves wrapped tightly with rope, the skin underneath pink. Gazing hopefully downward, Obi-Wan's face is that of a man who thinks he is about to be rescued; but unfortunately for him, that's not what Bail has in mind at all. "But ... I mean, I think if you could see yourself, you would admit that you look really kriffing hot." He holds Obi-Wan in place (unnecessarily, probably, though the leverage is nice), and brushes a kiss to his throat, biting gently, and then harder, until he hears Obi-Wan's soft whimper. "Ssshh, Ben," Bail murmurs, and trails more kisses along Obi-Wan's neck, presses his lips to the Jedi's thin(ner, he always seems to be losing weight whenever they see one another again after a far-too-long absence these days) shoulder blade, kisses him in the center of his clavicle. "Beautiful," he whispers, and is gratified, finally, to see Obi-Wan's cock jump. 

He's about to go further when Anakin finally deigns to return to the scene of the crime. "See?" he muses, and Bail stops lapping at one of Obi-Wan's increasingly peaked nipples momentarily to crane his neck. Eventually, Anakin steps closer, and then into his direct eye-line. "I see you finally decided to unwrap your gift," he smarms, and Bail would sigh, but the clothespins dangling from Anakin's fingers intrigue him. 

"For his nipples?"

Anakin smirks and snaps one open and closed a couple of times. "Yup," he confirms, and when Bail looks again, Obi-Wan has narrowed his gaze even further. "Mmmgnn," he glowers, shaking his head a little, but Anakin is still smiling and, much to his chagrin, so is Bail.

"Hush, Master. They aren't even as bad as the clamps. Not as pinchy." To demonstrate, he reaches out, thumbing one of Obi-Wan's nipples several times until the flesh is peaked; then, he presses it between one of the clothespins, Obi-Wan frowning but not hissing in pain. "See?" Anakin gloats, and then he repeats the process with the other one. "Want more?" he asks, and begins to grab up a couple more from his pocket, but Bail stops him.

"I don't think he really needs them there." He gestures at Obi-Wan's reluctantly engorged cock, and then, unable to resist any longer, runs one finger along the other man's slightly swollen ballsac. "He's already plenty hard," he murmurs, delighted at how Obi-Wan's nostrils flare. The bound Jedi makes to look away, eyes downcast and closed, and the whole thing is very dignified, but Bail just laughs softly - rudely, Obi-Wan thinks with a huff. "Aw, Ben. You're not completely hating this, are you?"

"Hnn."

"'Course he's not." Anakin, too, reaches down now, gripping the base of Obi-Wan's dick. He pumps once, twice, and Obi-Wan lets out a muffled moan. "He plays at being the consummate Jedi, but he likes this just as much as the rest of us." His hand stills, and then begins fondling more slowly, deeply. "And that's why it's hot," Anakin murmurs, and when his gaze meets Bail's this time, there's a slow simmer between them. "We both want the same thing here," Anakin says, and it reminds Bail once more of Zigoola, of touching down on Coruscant after days stranded beyond the Outer Rim, beyond everything, floating helplessly in wild space, terrified that their last moments of life would be spent on a deadly Sith planet, abandoned, save for the entities that were slowly but surely killing Obi-Wan while he watched, helpless, powerless to do anything except bear horrified witness. They'd been rescued, of course, and he remembers how Padme had stared aghast at Obi-Wan as the men who had accompanied her to collect them while he writhed, screaming, on the examining table. "We need to look at that leg, Sir," the Clone captain had intoned, but it was too much, he'd been cut off from the Light side of the Force for too long and everything HURT and he couldn't DO it anymore ... and that's when Bail had hunkered down at his makeshift bedside, gripping the other man's forearms, leaning over him well beyond the bounds of casual acquaintanceship, so much so that their foreheads had very nearly been touching. "Obi-Wan, it's me," he had rasped, terrified that the smaller man was going to start hallucinating once more, and in a place where he could hurt a great many people, besides. "You have to come back, everyone needs you here. Do you understand, Obi-Wan?"

And Obi-Wan had gasped, suddenly, momentarily, at least, reprieved, and had clung to the Senator's dirtied shirt sleeves, his face a mess of emotion and smeared also with filth, and even some blood, maybe his or Bail's or even both of theirs at that point. "Bail," he had nearly sobbed, and Bail had cupped his face and murmured soothingly to him, eventually begging him to accept the Clone medic's help, to "let him make you better, please, just until we get you home and then they can get you the rest of the way there." And Obi-Wan, eyes wide and fearful, knuckles white, jaw clenched, had finally, FINALLY nodded and relaxed enough for Bail to feel comfortable letting him go, and then about five Clones had swarmed around him as kindly as possible and gotten to work. Bail had allowed one to work on him, as well, and had mostly ignored Padme's quizzical glances, and later, even her attempts to start a conversation about what she had witnessed, what they all had witnessed, what Bail and Obi-Wan had laid bare to the Senator from Naboo and six Clone Troopers about who they were to one another then (now), because, he thought stubbornly at the time, yes, it had been a rather large spectacle, him practically lying on top of the bruised and beaten Jedi, coaxing him to just let some members of the military squad give him a karking injection or three so he could properly rest for a stanging minute or five, but all the same, it was incredibly private, something just between them, and even though he trusted Padme with his life and loved her like a friend or even a slightly younger sister, there were still things he didn't think she had a right to be privy to. 

Still: "Something's changed between the two of you since you began this journey," she'd said, and her voice had been soft, not accusatory. He had nodded, then, though his eyes never left the now-sleeping Jedi's prone (but not lifeless, thank the Force or whatever it was Obi-Wan might say, thank the kriffing Force) form. Padme had watched him watch Obi-Wan for a long minute, and then, politely, the way years of political haberdashery had taught her to act, she had excused herself "to contact General Skywalker to prepare him for our arrival."

And, well, contact him she had, and made his presence known the sheer second they had reached the docking bay adjacent from the Jedi Temple, Anakin most certainly had. "Master, what the kriff happened? Master, Obi-Wan." He'd been fairly sobbing as he'd picked Obi-Wan up, whisking him off of the uncomfortable cot on which he'd been placed at one point or another both briskly and with the care of a mother carrying a newborn infant. Obi-Wan had stirred, his face contorted in pain and surprise and, Bail had thought at the time, probably relief. Anakin had had no compunctions about whether or not anything he did seemed 'appropriate' one way or the other; pressing his forehead to Obi-Wan's seemed to cease the older man's restlessness - was it possible that Anakin's touch transferred energy through the Force? Sometimes, Bail thought, it might be nice to be a Jedi for reasons like that - and he held his Master there gingerly for several minutes, caring, it seemed, little whether anyone else noticed or liked it or not. "Better?" Anakin asked softly, softer than Bail thought he could speak; Obi-Wan had nodded a little, and his hands had fluttered near Anakin's face, one eventually connecting and patting a little awkwardly at the younger man's cheek. 

"Thank you, Anakin."

"Ssshh." He had started to move, then, thin, well-muscled legs making long strides off the ship, back towards the Temple. "We'll fix it, Master, I promise," Bail had heard him murmur, and maybe even heard Obi-Wan let out a soft sigh of relief; it made his heart ache for reasons he couldn't entirely comprehend at the time. "Whatever they did, no matter how bad it is, we'll fix it. You have my word. Okay?"

"Yes, okay," came Obi-Wan's tired reply. They had disappeared, then, though Bail had tried to find them again, tried to find a way into the Jedi Temple so he could make sure that, in fact, everything was being fixed; not that he thought it wouldn't be, but, well, it was strange, being completely depended on by one of the Order's own for days at a time, and then not even being deemed appropriate to be updated on his progress. He'd waited nearly an entire day after Anakin had carried Obi-Wan away, pacing, his concentration absolute garbage, and then he'd noticed the young man returning from some errand or another (probably in Palpatine's office) in the Senate building, and his heart had leapt to his throat. "Anakin," he had called, his voice tired, hoarse, but Anakin still must have recognized it, because he turned (reluctantly) to face him.

"Senator."

Bail had stepped closer, almost mincingly, trying not to fiddle or twist his hands anxiously; he had been so worried, and there had been nothing, and well, maybe he didn't precisely understand why he cared so much, but he did, and he needed to know, anything, anything at all. "How is he?" he asked, and then added, unnecessarily, but still: "Obi-Wan, I mean. He just ... he probably needed a lot of attention for his leg and all ..."

"Yeah, he did." Anakin's face had been shuttered, as though he knew he could not actively blame Bail for causing Obi-Wan's injury, perhaps that he'd been told precisely that by his former Master, and yet, still, he was working very hard not to simply lash out at the other man, for the sake of letting off steam, if nothing else. "They'll probably keep him a few days yet," the young man claimed, his eyes dull, and Bail wondered how much his own latest mission had taken out of him. "So if there's nothing else ..." Anakin said, and started to turn away, but Bail just, he couldn't ...

"Wait." Anakin's face had been noticeably impatient at that point. "I'm sorry," Bail had said hurriedly, hands up, supplicating, begging. "It's just that I ... it really was a really harrowing mission and I guess I just want to see for myself that he's all right. He ... he almost died. I just want to be able to talk to him and maybe let him know I'm happy he's alive." 

Anakin's expression had not changed; rather, they had stared at one another for a long moment, and then, finding nothing redeeming in Bail, it seemed, the younger man had simply turned away after some time. "So ... okay, then," Bail had murmured, and swallowed down his disappointment, nay, his anger at being so brushed aside. He had even begun to trudge away, hands fisted at his sides - really, he was angry, dare he say, pissed, even, because how fucking dare they - when ... "Organa."

He turned around again, spooked. "Yes?"

Anakin's expression was the same as before, except now one slender eyebrow rose a little. "There's a shift change in a few hours, around seven," he said calmly, though Bail sensed that this information had not been come by through entirely honest means. "I'll be able to sneak you in for a few minutes then. It's not foolproof," he had frowned, and Bail wondered how many times Skywalker himself had gotten caught, "but, well, if you're not scared of a tongue-lashing from Vokara Che, it's an option."

Relief and something else he couldn't quite cop to yet had flooded his chest. "Seven," he repeated, and Anakin nodded slightly. "Great! I, I'll be there." He had been early, and Anakin had noticed, and then had simply motioned with one hand for Bail to follow him. It had taken some doing - ducking behind a few columns, waiting while Anakin listened to voices farther away than anything that registered in Bail's non-Force-sensitive ears or mind - but they had eventually arrived at Master Kenobi's room. The bearded Jedi had looked small in the hospital bed, and very pale, though he seemed to be relaxed, through Jedi means or good old-fashioned drugs, Bail wasn't sure, and his heart leapt in his throat. "Obi-Wan," he found himself murmuring, and Anakin had watched him approach the bed and, pulling up a chair, hunker down as close as he could muster. 

"Bail. You came." Obi-Wan's face had been lined and tired, but his eyes were still blue, still full of the Light that he had sobbingly confessed at one point that he feared to be lost to him forever. There were no cords stuck into him, it seemed, no IVs, and so Bail had leaned over and gingerly clasped the Jedi's hands, not noticing whether or not Anakin had, well, noticed.

"Of course I came. I wanted to come sooner; if they had let me, I would have been here the whole time." Anakin had definitely noticed that - Bail could feel the young man's penetrating gaze boring into the back of his head, even without Jedi powers - and he coughed a little. "Thank you for bringing him along, Anakin," Obi-Wan noted aloud, his gaze shifting a little, and Anakin inclined his head a miniscule amount.

"Don't mention it." It had sounded like a warning, but to his credit, Anakin had not, in fact, made any further mention of what he'd seen (and, probably, heard, from Padme), as far as Bail could tell, ever since. 

Until now, of course.

"You know we do," Anakin breathes, piggy-backing on his earlier statement. "We both want Obi-Wan. We want him here, with us, and we want him safe. We both benefit from the work the Jedi and the Senators do to keep the Republic safe for another day." He begins unfastening his own pants, but it's when he reaches over and flicks the clasp at the top of Bail's own trousers that the Alderaanian Senator startles.

"What are you -"

"Come on, Organa." Anakin's lips are plump, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles mischievously. The effect is dazzling, Bail has to admit, though against his credit, the kid's attitude kriffing sucks. "Are you afraid?" Anakin asks, and Bail scoffs.

"Afraid of you? No."

Anakin smirks, and then fingers that had previously idled at the top of Bail's waistband move lower. Anakin scoots closer. "Good," he whispers throatily, and then, Obi-Wan watching silently with a curious raised eyebrow, perched slightly above them both, Anakin grins and suddenly grips both of their penises in his hand. "Live a little," he says, slightly menacingly, and Bail jumps.

"Ohhh." Anakin jerks them both off, and then, Obi-Wan still watching them both, wide-eyed, from his diminished positioning on the couch, the young man leans in and kisses Bail, tongue lapping against the older man's, their mouths open and wet. "W-why?" Bail queries, because he thinks he gets it, but he wants to make sure that he really does, or at least he'd like to get confirmation that Anakin has simply decided to, apropos of nothing, and for lack of better phrasing, to be sure, jerk him around.

Anakin, however, just continues to look smug. "Why not?" His hand movements slow, become more direct, and Bail's eyelashes flutter a bit. "Don't come yet," the boy tells him, and he swallows a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "'Cause I mean, you still wanna have something to fuck Obi-Wan against the table with, don'tcha?"

Bail's eyes snap open immediately. "Yes," he says, and Obi-Wan looks somewhat disappointed/concerned. Satisfied, nonetheless, Anakin lets go of both of their cocks. "Help me with him," he tells Bail, and tugs himself into a standing position. He walks behind Obi-Wan, and before long, the bound man's ankles are freed, and he's able, with Anakin's help, to maneuver himself into a standing position. The clothespins come off, and Obi-Wan squirms. "Mmf," he glowers, and his legs probably hurt from kneeling for so long, but the noise is also probably because Bail rockets Obi-Wan into his own arms, nimbly undoing the clasp behind his head and plucking the gag from his mouth before sealing his lips over the other man's, as though Obi-Wan is the coldest, most refreshing drink of water he's ever had. "Hmm," Obi-Wan murmurs, and the soft cadence that Bail now comes to associate sweetly and uniquely with him returns with his next breath: "Hello, there."

"Hi." Bail kisses him again, enjoying the closeness, how Obi-Wan leans against him for support, and also how his arms are still bound behind his back, leaving him warm and pliable and all Bail's for the taking. The kissing interlude makes them both harder, and then Anakin is coughing rather unsubtly into his hand. "You still haven't unwrapped your gift all the way," he smarms, and Bail smirks back, placing one last cocksure kiss to Obi-Wan's warm mouth before leading him over to the round dining area table, which Anakin has already taken the liberty of adorning with the excess rope from Obi-Wan's ankles at the middle. 

"I'm working on it," Bail intones, and then he unties the older Jedi's hands, rubbing slowly at the wrists and then biceps to better Obi-Wan's circulation there. "Bend over, Master," Anakin orders briskly, and they all laugh a little. "So very subtle," Obi-Wan murmurs, and Bail playfully smacks him on the ass.

"Do as the man says, Master Jedi."

"All right," Obi-Wan complains, but eventually obeys, lying on his belly along the table while Anakin - all too willingly, he thinks, frowning a little - re-ropes his wrists to opposite legs. "You want I should tie his ankles again, too?" Anakin asks Bail, but some thing or another tapping at his backside ("ugh," he grunts, and he feels Bail smile in the Force) seems to be negating that query.

"He's good back here," Bail says a moment later, and they begin. Something slick gets placed inside of him, ostensibly with Bail's fingers (they're smaller, he knows, he thinks with a wry grin, from experience), and then he feels Bail kick his legs even further apart. "Ah," he groans, and the scissoring motion that Bail is making with two (three?) digits now inside of his ass hole is having a distinct effect. His cock, more than a little hard now, is hanging mostly off the edge of the (small, but strangely perfect for this sort of thing, completely incidentally) table. Anakin's bindings ensure that he remains stretched flat across the surface otherwise, though he's not surprised when his former apprentice appears in his eye-line suddenly, stroking his own fairly hardened dick with his real hand.

"Hey, Master," Anakin grins, waggling his cock a little. "You wanna guess where this is going?"

Obi-Wan sighs exasperatedly, not even bothering not to roll his eyes. "I sincerely hope it's not back there with - aah! - with where Bail is currently putting h-his," he says, gargling a little because, wow, that is snug. 

Anakin's smirk does not recede even a bit. "Nah. Been there, done that. But I wouldn't mind if you put it somewhere else inside of you, Master." His hand reaches out again, stroking down the side of Obi-Wan's fuzzy face. "Please, Master?" Anakin wheedles. "It'll be so hot."

"I keep hearing that," Obi-Wan grouses, and Anakin takes it as initiative to have Obi-Wan begin blowing him, helping the older man by cradling his head a bit, taking some of the strain off of his neck muscles. It's a wonderful, heady sight to have Obi-Wan before him like this; every so often, the bound man wiggles as Bail fucks into him with considerable vigor from the other side of the table, and time and practice have ensured that such sudden movements do not compromise his ability to suck Anakin's penis without accidentally chomping down on the head or something. "Hmm, Master, kriff, yeah," Anakin moans, and he walks a little closer, grips a little tighter, until Obi-Wan swirls his tongue underneath the rim and then deep-throats nearly the entire thing. "Mmmg," Obi-Wan tells him, and Anakin looks down and slaps at his cheek a little.

"Look at me, Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan does. His eyes are carefully focused, pupils large, and the faintest hint of tongue peeks out as Anakin slips partially from between his lips again, and then -- "huaaa," Bail 'says' from behind them, and a somewhat musky smell wafts across the short expanse. The pressure of Bail slamming into him as he empties his load is particularly intense, and Obi-Wan's fingers flex and flail a little well into the aftermath of his friend's(?) orgasm. "Stars' end," Bail gasps out, and pulls out a moment later, spent. Tucking himself back into his pants, he makes his way around to the other side of the table. 

"Wanna watch him swallow it?" Anakin's face is somewhat flushed, especially across his cheeks, and Bail can sense he won't last much longer. And sure, it would be hot to watch the kid jizz down Obi-Wan's throat, but then an image conjures itself in his mind, and, well, it IS his birthday, after all ...

"Nah. Come on his face, instead." He waits a beat, and then: "Here, let me help." It's his turn to jerk Anakin Skywalker off, now, tit-for-tat, and it feels a little strange, maybe, because in spite of all that has happened between him and Obi-Wan since Zigoola, Bail's predilections and experiences have mostly been for/with women; all the same, however, it's a fairly universal process, curling his fingers around a cock and then pumping and stroking and running his thumb across the top until he can feel the weight in Anakin's balls start to shift, and then it's a simple enough matter to up the ante until -- "M-Master," Anakin gasps out, and it's strangely sweet, and Bail's probably going to pay for this later, either through a huffy silence or other means, but it's worth it, he thinks giddily, to see Obi-Wan's face strategically covered in jizz, to watch him blink and turn his head a little to detract some of the more head-on strands, and to have it come to naught because, after all, Bail has pretty good aim and a solid grip on Anakin's penis, besides.

Obi-Wan shifts a little restlessly after it's all over, and it's probably both from the positioning, and the fact that his own cock is still hard and even weeping a little. He resists the urge to try and rub his lower half against the edge of the table, because after all, he is a Jedi Master, first and foremost, and also, food goes here, or will be eventually, and so it's just not sanitary. 

Fortunately, Bail seems to be keyed into this train of thought as well. "Let's help him out," he suggests to Anakin, and Anakin relinquishes the ropes around his wrists. Immediately, Obi-Wan wipes at his face, however ineffectively, trying to rid himself of some of the (vaguely dried, now) mess. Back groaning a little, he is then helped into a standing position by Bail's eager hands and arms, upon which Bail wraps his upper limbs around Obi-Wan's bare body, possessive, heart beating steadily against Obi-Wan's back. "Happy birthday," Obi-Wan sighs good-naturedly at him, and Bail's hand snakes down to his nethers, eliciting a soft moan.

"It is, isn't it?" He runs his hands down Obi-Wan's flat belly, rustles the coarse hairs just before his cock, and then grips the Jedi Master's considerable length in his palm. "Are you eager tonight?" Bail asks, pleased when Obi-Wan loops an arm around his shoulders, his other hand fluttering near the one Bail has wrapped around his penis. "Because I can fast, or sl-" 

"I'm hungry," Obi-Wan bites out tersely, and Bail barks out an unexpected laugh in response. "Hurry up," the other man wheedles uncharacteristically, and Bail begins to stroke him at a considerable pace.

In front of them, Anakin has also tucked himself back into his Jedi leggings and tunics. "You heard the man," he smarms, and crosses his arms over his chest, watching the show with bemused interest. "That's good," he compliments when Bail squeezes with just the right amount of pressure just beneath the head and Obi-Wan makes a kind of squawking sound. "Master, you're so pretty when you're just about to blow your load."

"Thank you for that eloquent assessment, Anaki-" Obi-Wan begins, but another wave of pleasure ripples through him and he ends his snappy assertion in a harsh gasp. His head falls back against Bail's shoulder, and the darker man flips his free hand over Obi-Wan's much-abused nipples, alternating idly between both, tugging lightly and even twisting because Obi-Wan's mouth opens in a perfect 'O' shape when he elicits just the right level of stimulation. "He's close," Anakin tells them, and Obi-Wan's teeth are gritted, free hand still flailing. "You're close, aren't you, Master?"

"Y-yes," Obi-Wan manages, and Bail, inspired, really lays into him now, increasing the friction down below, reaching up with his free hand and gripping Obi-Wan's jaw. "Say my name when you finish," he orders, forcing the smaller man to meet his gaze. "Do you understand, Ben? I want you to say my n-"

"B-Bail ... BAIL," Obi-Wan shudders, and his eyes are huge and blue and his mouth trembles. It's so fucking beautiful, Bail thinks, and he impatiently gets Obi-Wan through the best/worst of the aftermath of his orgasm before tugging him full-on into his arms, chest-to-chest, shoving their mouths together, kissing him soundly until their heavy breathing is from that more than anything else. "Thank you," Obi-Wan says fuzzily, and Bail presses one last kiss to his mouth before releasing him somewhat from his own clinging embrace.

"Thank YOU," Bail tells him, and smiles at the usually pristine Jedi Master's disheveled form. "You should use my shower. I'll start dinner. It'll be about an hour later than expected, but I think it's still a salvageable idea." He turns to Anakin, still watching them. "I guess you can stay, too."

Anakin snorts. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Bail pauses. "Although you know, most people bring wine when they invite themselves to a fancy dinner, Skywalker."

Anakin shrugs good-naturedly. "You already have plenty of wine - and lip gloss, I noticed. There's like eight different tubes in your nightstand alone. What's up with that, Organa?"

Bail coughs. "Anyway, thank you for the unorthodox yet wholly entertaining birthday present." He looks fondly at Obi-Wan, who has managed to collect his clothing from where Anakin stashed them behind the couch; picking up his obi, however, reminds him ... 

"I must confess that there was a casualty in the midst of Anakin, er, preparing your gift this evening, Bail." Obi-Wan holds up the broken blown-glass bantha bowl. "I'm terribly sorry, Senator. The Jedi will, of course, remunerate you for the full cost of the item."

Bail squints at it, and then puts two-and-two together when he notices the slightly dusty, suddenly empty space on a nearby end-table. "To be honest, it was a 'Secret Life Day' gift from one of Padme's nieces," he says at last. "I suppose I set it there when it came home with me, and I haven't really looked at it since." He smiles. "So no need for the remuneration ... although if you wanted to work off the debt, Ben, I'm sure we could arrange something."

"Hmph." Obi-Wan still somehow manages to look dignified, even nude, his face covered in streaks of dried come. "Anakin was the one who broke it in the first place."

"Nuh-uh, Master," Anakin fires back, suddenly fearful of his night ending without tasting some of Bail's formidable mashed tuber roots, among other delicacies that the earlier grocery sacks had implied. "If you recall correctly, it was YOUR elbow that hit it and sent it flying to the ground. I suppose with old age comes memory loss, though," he intones, buffing his nails a little against his shoulder.

Obi-Wan's eyes are beady and narrowed. "If I'm going down for that one, then Senator Organa is coming with me. After all," Obi-Wan remarks smartly, "it's his birthday."

Bail just laughs. "I'll summon my cleaning 'droid," he says, and does just that. To its credit, T497-X does not appear to care why there is a naked Jedi in its eye-line, and before long, the broken bantha bowl has been permanently retired to the refuse bin. "Now, I insist, Obi-Wan, go clean yourself up. I won't let Anakin eat everything before you come back, I promise."

"I don't," Anakin smirks, and they all chuckle.


End file.
